Band of Brothers
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: Detectives Ellison and Sandburg travel with Daryl Banks to Bayport, where catastrophes occur and the Hardys are involved.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Hardy Boys/Sentinel Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 1

"Where the heck is Bayport, anyway?" Detective Blair Sandburg frowned down at the sheet of paper on his desk – the one with all the details about the police procedures seminar he and his partner were being sent to. "Bayport, New York...why not New York City, if we have to fly clear across the country?" he complained.

"My, my, aren't we in a foul mood?" Jim Ellison looked across their adjoining desks calmly. "Bayport's a nice little city – about 50,000 people, I think – and it's not all that far from the Big Apple, Chief. We can probably swing through Times Square before we come back to Cascade, if you want. Besides, I thought you liked the idea of getting out of town for a few days."

"I do," Sandburg admitted. "I'm just kvetching to kvetch, that's all." He reached for the information sheet again and scanned through it. "You ever been back there?"

"No, but I actually know someone who lives there," his partner said, to Blair's amazement. "Guy I was in basic training with, when I joined the Army. Funny thing is, he's a police detective too. Name's Con Riley."

"Whoa!" Blair blinked. "That's amazing, man! You gonna try and connect with him while we're back there?"

"Figured I would, yeah." Ellison grinned. "We still exchange occasional Christmas cards. At the very least he might buy us dinner – you think?"

"Ellison! Sandburg! My office!" The stentorian bark interrupted their conversation, and the two detectives jerked to attention, then got to their feet and hurried into Captain Simon Banks' office to answer the summons.

"You bellowed, sir?" Sandburg was never one for undue ceremony.

Banks eyed him sternly. "Don't start, Sandburg; I've already had to deal with the Chief of Police this morning." He waved them toward the chairs. "Sit, sit. This is unofficial."

They sat, Jim in a chair, Blair perched on the edge of a table, both wondering what was going on. The captain handed each of them a cup of coffee.

"Daryl's won tickets to the NCAA early-round playoffs next week back East," Simon said without further preamble. "He's thrilled, as you can imagine – but there's absolutely no way I can take time off to go with him, and I'm reluctant to send him off alone, even if he is 18!"

Blair, who had traveled alone all over the world, from the time he'd hit his mid-teens, couldn't help smiling a little, but held his tongue and kept a polite, interested expression on his face.

"Then I looked at where the games are being played," Banks continued, "and it's in Bayport, New York – the same town where you two are scheduled to attend that seminar, and the times overlap."

Ellison and Sandburg exchanged glances. _Uh-oh, I think I know where this is going..._ Jim gave his partner a tiny nod and wink.

The captain waited, evidently hoping that either Jim or Blair would pick up the ball and run with it, but neither detective said anything. Banks glared at them, then sighed. "Okay, I'm asking a favor here: could Daryl travel with you, and you sort of look out for him? I don't exactly mean baby-sit him – he'd be furious – but just keep an eye on him?"

Again the glance between the partners, then Jim spoke for them both. "We'd be glad to have Daryl with us, sir. He's a great kid. But are you sure he won't mind traveling with us?"

Banks chuckled. "Are you kidding? He thinks the sun rises and sets on you both. He'll be thrilled!" He leaned back in his chair, relief spreading across his face. "I owe you two for this!"

#####

"Wow, tickets for the whole weekend!" Joe Hardy gloated, removing the glossy cardboard strips from the large envelope. "I can hardly believe it!" He held up the precious tickets, blue eyes sparkling as he looked them over. "Having NCAA basketball playoff games right here in Bayport – and us managing to get tickets – it's like, unbelievable! Even if it is just opening rounds."

"We got lucky, all right," his older brother Frank agreed. "But it's going to be crowded – and I don't just mean because of the basketball tournament! I read that there's some sort of law enforcement thing going on at the convention center, and that's right next door to the Sports Complex! Cops coming in from all over the nation, apparently...Parking's going to be a nightmare! Maybe we should take the bus to the games!" He shoved back a lock of dark hair with a rueful smile.

"Oh, swell," Joe groused. "It would have been bad enough with just the basketball games. Well, we'll just have to cope, I guess. Getting these tickets is too rare to spoil it by worrying about crowds!"

#####

"We'll meet you here at lunchtime, how's that?" Jim craned his neck to try and catch Daryl Banks' roving eye; the young man was barely paying attention to his companions as he gazed at the crowded sports arena with excited anticipation. "Out in that courtyard, okay? Okay, Daryl? One o'clock? DARYL!"

"Huh? Oh – sorry, Jim, sorry...Uh, yeah, one o'clock works. The first game's supposed to be over by 12:30, and the next one doesn't start until two." Daryl's embarrassed flush was concealed by his dark skin.

"Good enough." Ellison grinned across – he could no longer look _down_ – at the young man. "Have a good time!"

They parted company, Daryl joining the crowd streaming into the Bayport Sports Complex and Jim and Blair heading into the Convention Center. The two detectives stopped to pick up their printed name badges and participant packets, and were moving into the main hall to find a place to sit when Jim heard his name called.

"Ellison! Jim Ellison! Is that you?"

They turned toward the sound, and saw a dark-haired man about Jim's age approaching, moving purposefully through the crowd. A smile broke onto Ellison's face.

"Con! You haven't changed much!" He stepped forward, his hand outstretched to the newcomer. "Good to see you again!" He gripped Riley's hand, then turned to Blair. "Chief, I'd like you to meet an old friend – this is Detective Con Riley of the Bayport Police. Con, my partner – and best friend – Detective Blair Sandburg."

#####

Daryl Banks walked slowly into the Sports Complex, moving along with the crowd, and let his ticket be scanned at one of the turnstiles. He checked the seat number and looked around to locate the appropriate area. He'd seen a seating chart of the arena, and knew he was sitting on the second tier. He hoped he'd have nice people to sit near.

Following the signs, he found the correct escalator and rode it to the second level. When he got off, he nearly bumped into two guys about his own age, who were hovering near one of the entrances and looking at their tickets.

"Section 215, Row B," one of them – a tall boy with dark hair – said, and Daryl pricked up his ears. That was his section and row!

"Seats nine and ten," chimed in his companion, who had blonde hair.

Daryl paused next to them, and when they looked up at him, he smiled tentatively. "Hey, guys...I'm right next to you, in number eight," he ventured, and the two boys grinned at him in friendly fashion.

"Cool!" the blonde said. "I'm Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank. Let's go on in, uh...?"

"Daryl," he said happily. "Daryl Banks."

#####

When the lunch break came, Jim and Blair explained to Riley that they were meeting their boss's son, who was attending the basketball game next door, and invited the Bayport cop along to lunch with them. Accepting with pleasure, Con followed the two men from Cascade out into the soft drizzle which had been falling for an hour or so. They paused in the courtyard area, looking for any sign of Daryl.

"Jim! Blair!"

"Con?"

"Daryl! Looks like you found some friends, man!"

"Frank? What're you doing here?"

Voices spilled over each other as two groups came together – the three police officers in one, and three young men in the other. Jim recognized Daryl, of course, but the two accompanying him were strangers.

"Whoa, whoa! Time out! Let's all get on the same page, huh?" Blair held up his hands in a settling motion. "Con, you seem to know most of us, can you do the honors...?"

"Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, this is Frank and Joe Hardy," Riley complied with the request. "Jim and Blair are police detectives, partners, from Cascade, Washington," he explained to the Bayport boys. "Frank and Joe are local boys with international connections," he teased, "their father is a private detective who used to be a cop with the NYPD, and they do a lot of sleuthing themselves." Con grinned at Daryl. "You must be Captain Banks' son; I've already heard about you!"

Frank and Joe were candidly inspecting the two police officers from the West Coast, for in all their experiences with law enforcement personnel they had never seen two less likely partners! The older one – not old, probably about the same age as Riley, late thirties, or possibly 40 – whom Con had introduced as Jim Ellison, was tall – taller even than Frank's 6'1" – and had short brown hair [and a slightly receding hairline] and the most piercing pale-blue eyes they'd ever seen. He seemed to be able to look inside them – or _through_ them – and although he smiled politely, his gaze was assessing and cool. He wasn't exactly unfriendly...but his whole bearing was, at the very least, reserved. It fairly _screamed_ 'cop!'

His companion, on the other hand, was the most unusual-looking police officer the Hardys had ever met. Not young, exactly – not a rookie, but younger than Ellison by a few years – Blair Sandburg was short in comparison to everyone else – perhaps 5'9" at the most. He had wavy dark hair down to his shoulders, he wore silver-wire-rimmed glasses over long-lashed, ocean-blue eyes, and possessed a sweet, engaging grin. He almost seemed to bounce in place with enthusiasm. He held out his hand to each of them in turn, and seeming to guess their thoughts, laughed: "Before you ask, no, I don't work in Vice. Well, not often, anyway, only occasionally on loan. We're in Major Crimes."

"Major Crimes...?" Frank turned to Daryl. "Isn't that where you said your father—"

"Yep!" The tall black youth grinned. "My dad's their boss!"

Sandburg cleared his throat ostentatiously. "And a lovely man he is, too. Isn't he, Jim? Be sure to tell him I said so, Daryl!"

Everyone laughed at that.

"It just worked out that Sandburg and I and Daryl all were coming to Bayport at the same time," Ellison remarked, "So we're a package deal."

He was looking as closely at Daryl's new acquaintances as the boys were at him and Sandburg. What he saw impressed him favorably: two tall, well-built guys, one with dark hair and eyes, the other a blue-eyed blonde, both with clean-cut good looks. And from what Con Riley had said, a former cop and PI's kids...pretty good recommendation, that. It seemed that Daryl had lucked out.

"I take it we're having lunch together?" Con inquired, and received several nods. They moved towards one of the food kiosks scattered around the courtyard. "There's these – and there are more in the convention center...No matter what we get, I suggest we go inside to eat it, since it's trying to rain."

"It's going to rain more; there's a storm coming in," Ellison remarked absently, gazing up at the lowering sky.

"Jim loves hot dogs," Sandburg said wickedly as they got in line. "Some of the first meals we ever ate together were hot dogs, remember, Jim?" He dodged, seemingly without even looking, Ellison's gentle smack at the back of his head. "Not the hair, man!"

###

Over lunch, Con and Jim shared reminiscences of their basic training days, the detectives 'talked shop,' to which all three boys listened avidly, and the two groups compared notes about their respective mornings. The teens were understandably much more enthusiastic about theirs, describing the game in detail. The police officers couldn't come up with much that was similarly exciting, although Blair did entertain them by rummaging through his 'guest packet' with running commentary.

"Look, there's gum...and some candy, hard candy, mints...and gee, a little first-aid kit! Do they think we're going to hurt ourselves sitting and listening to lectures? And hmmm...dental floss. How exciting. Well, I suppose we could tie something up with it. And there was a pen and a little tablet; we used those already. And – oh, cool, now this is neat! Look, Jim! It's a little tiny flashlight to go on a keychain!"

"You could hurt yourself sitting and listening to a lecture, Chief," Ellison observed dryly. "But I agree, the little flashlight might come in handy."

"You are so not funny," his partner retorted, carefully clipping the miniature flash onto his keys. "Hey, bottled water, too! Why didn't I notice this stuff during the morning session?"

"Because you were actually listening to the speaker and taking notes, with your pen and little tablet?" Joe suggested, grinning.

"Nah..." Sandburg stuck the little bottle of water in the pocket of his jacket. "Jim and I were playing Hangman." He glanced up and winked at his partner, who looked decidedly embarrassed.

"You didn't need to mention that, Chief."

"Oh, but I did." He leaned across the table to speak to the Hardys in a stage whisper: "He doesn't want people to know he goofs off at these things even worse than I do. And he can't do anything to me in front of you guys...But I'll pay for it eventually. He'll probably toss me off the balcony when we get home, or something!"

"Sandburg, I would not toss you off the balcony—"

"Maybe not, but you'll disable the elevator or something, so I'll have to walk up the stairs. WITH my luggage...! Or...I'll end up cooking dinner every night for a month—"

"Oh, good, can I come over, Blair?" Daryl interjected, between gurgles of laughter. "You cook better than Dad!"

"Or scrubbing the grout in the shower..." Blair continued in a martyred tone. Now they were all laughing, not just Daryl. Sandburg caught the Hardys' slightly bewildered looks and sought to clarify the situation. "Jim and I share an apartment," he explained. "He was kind enough to let me stay with him when mine...um...blew up."

"Blew up?" Frank repeated in consternation.

"It's a long story; trust me, you don't want to know," Ellison said dryly. He made little quote marks in the air. "'One week, and I promise, I promise, I'll be out of your hair,'" he mocked. "Riiight. That was over five years ago, and he's still in my hair."

"What hair?" Sandburg gibed.

Jim gave him a look that would have curdled milk. "Keep it up and you scrub the bathroom grout with your toothbrush," he warned.

Blair just chuckled, and this time didn't try to elude the hand that tugged affectionately on a strand of his curly hair.

Frank and Joe exchanged glances as they returned to eating their lunches. Ellison and Sandburg certainly _were_ the most unusual cop partners they'd ever encountered, but they seemed very nice!

"Those are cool," Daryl said, craning his neck to look at Blair's treasures again. "Wish I had that little flashlight."

"Here, have mine," Jim offered. He rummaged through his own guest packet and pulled out the mini-flash, which Daryl accepted with a wide grin. "I'll hang onto the first-aid kit just in case; no telling what Sandburg might do to himself this afternoon."

Blair just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

###

After lunch, the two groups prepared to split up once again, the boys going back for the afternoon's game, and the police officers returning to their meetings. Con Riley groaned audibly as he checked his schedule.

"Legalities of interviewing witnesses!"

Blair looked at his. "I'm down for profiles of terrorists and psychological aspects of terrorism," he informed his partner, who nodded. "And you're...you're doing the Advanced Forensic Investigations one, aren't you?"

Jim nodded again. "We finish around five; want to meet out here afterwards?" He glanced around to include Con, Daryl and the Hardys. "What time does the game end?"

"We should be out by five, easy," Daryl answered. "Do you guys have to be home right away?" he asked Frank and Joe, who shook their heads.

"Dad's out of town on a case," Frank volunteered, "and we told Mom we'd grab something to eat here, after the game."

"Want to join us for dinner?" Ellison invited. "Con? That includes you, too."

"Sure, I'd like that," Riley accepted, and the Hardys both grinned and nodded.

"Great!" Daryl enthused. "We'll meet you out here in the courtyard right after the game, then!"

As he and Blair crossed the courtyard, Jim paused, his head tilting in a fashion that was very familiar to his partner.

"What is it?" Blair inquired, stopping too.

"I keep hearing water running," Ellison said in a fretful tone. He looked around. "There's that fountain—" He frowned unhappily at the water feature, which was nearer the Sports Complex, and Blair gently patted his arm, knowing why Jim hesitated over the words. "but that's not what I'm hearing. It sounds sort of subterranean."

"Hmmm." Sandburg looked around, frowning too. "You don't usually pick up on water running through pipes underground, do you?"

"No – could if I wanted to, but I keep it filtered out."

Anyone overhearing their conversation would have been bewildered, and with good reason, for the two police officers were referring to something very unusual. Jim Ellison wasn't just a very good detective...and Blair Sandburg wasn't merely an ex-anthropologist-turned cop. Ellison was a Sentinel – a person with all five senses genetically enhanced – and Blair Sandburg was not only his partner, roommate and best friend, but also his Guide – a man who had studied sentinels extensively, and the only person who could keep Ellison grounded while he used those enhanced senses, could often alleviate the agony of sensory spikes, and could pull Jim from the catatonic zone-outs that occasionally happened when he concentrated too closely on any one thing.

"It's not the fountain?" Blair wanted to be sure. He looked it over – it didn't look much like the fountain on Rainier University's campus that held such agonizing memories for them both. It was a circular flat surface, surrounded by a foot-high fence, with multiple jets which spurted in varying patterns and heights, accompanied by colored lighting displays...but it appeared that the water pressure must be low, for the spouting jets were sluggish and weak.

"No, I'm sure of that...although I suppose it might be the pipes leading to it." Jim was still scowling thoughtfully at their surroundings. "It's probably not anything important, just...irritating, that's all." A muted grumble of thunder made both men glance up at the dark clouds overhead. "There's a nasty storm coming," Jim added.

"You can feel the atmospheric changes?" Sandburg asked with interest. Even after over five years of studying Jim's heightened senses, he was always fascinated by their manifestations.

"Yes and no – it makes my sinuses ache!" the Sentinel said with a grimace. "But that's not unusual; happens to lots of people. It doesn't have anything to do with sentinel abilities, except that they make the pain worse...so don't get your curls in a fluff, Chief!"

"I can think of at least one sense that's undeveloped in you, and that's your sense of humor," Sandburg huffed, and stalked towards the convention center. Jim followed him, grinning broadly...but he glanced back once more at the fountain with its languid water jets, and the smile faded into a puzzled frown.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys crossover story

By EvergreenDreamweaver & Talefeathers

Chapter 2

"Whew, glad that's over with – but it was interesting!" Blair Sandburg rotated his shoulders as he, Jim and Con walked out of the convention center several hours later. "How were yours?" he asked his companions.

Con shrugged, made a wry face, and didn't bother to answer, but Jim Ellison actually was looking intrigued. "Not bad," he admitted. "Although I think maybe Serena ought to have been here for it, and not me. But there were some good points." He winked at Blair, and the younger man caught the inference: _Some things that will go well with Sentinel abilities_. "I'll tell you about it later, Chief."

"We're never going to find those three kids in this crowd," Con griped, looking helplessly at the hundreds of people streaming out of the Sports Complex. He jumped slightly as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. "And it's going to cut loose any time now!"

"Too bad we couldn't equip 'em with homing devices," quipped Sandburg, going up on tiptoe to look as well. Privately, he figured that Jim could probably find Daryl, Joe and Frank quite easily, but that little detail wasn't something they cared to let Con know.

"They aren't out yet," Jim commented absently, and Blair poked him lightly, reminding him to be discreet. Ordinarily, Jim was very cautious about revealing his abilities, but even he slipped up occasionally! A second later, Blair's jabs turned into a gentle massaging grip on Ellison's arm, as a growl of thunder made the Sentinel tense up.

"Dial it back," Sandburg whispered, almost inaudibly, and felt Jim relax in response. Large drops of rain began to splatter around them, and they moved back into the shelter of the overhang nearest the doors.

A few minutes later the three teens strolled up, Daryl proudly wearing a replica basketball jersey from one of the first game's teams under his jacket. Joe had on a new hat bearing a different team's logo. Frank alone seemed to have resisted the shopping impulse. All three of them were excitedly discussing the game they'd just seen.

"We ready to go, then? Ideas for dinner?" Ellison asked.

"Could we wait just a little bit?" Daryl wheedled. "Frank said he'd show me around down in the basement."

"What's in the basement?" Blair raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"They're creating a sports museum down there," Joe explained. "It's not finished yet, but there's a lot of autographed photos and sports memorabilia and stuff."

"Is it open to the public?" Ellison wanted to know.

"Well..." Frank grinned disarmingly. "Not really. But I don't think anyone would mind if we took a quick peek. And now would be the time to do it!"

"Frank, Frank, Frank..." Con shook his head, his eyes twinkling.

"Hey, I'm being a good host, here; Daryl wants to see it!" Frank defended himself. "You coming, Joe?"

Joe shrugged. "I've seen it before," he said. "You can do the honors this time. I think I'll stay out here." He flinched a little as thunder rumbled and lightning crackled across the sky. "The only reason I could see going to the basement would be because of the storm."

"Can you get back in?" Blair asked. "Won't they keep you out?"

"I think we can slide in through the crowd," Frank said. "It just takes some talent to mingle and move the wrong way!"

Jim looked him over consideringly. "You are a security guard's worst nightmare," he said with amused irritation.

"Yes, I know... Anyone else want to come?" Frank inquired. Jim and Con shook their heads, but Blair grinned and stepped forward.

"Sure, I'm game!" he offered. "When else am I likely to see the innermost secrets of the Bayport Sports Complex, after all?"

"Sandburg, are you nuts?" Too late, Jim realized that this comment might not be the most tactful thing he could have said, since _Daryl_ was eager to go exploring with Frank Hardy.

"Not that I was aware, no," Blair said coolly. He stared into his partner's eyes meaningfully, and Jim suddenly caught on that Blair was doing this to keep an eye on their young charge and his new friend. It wasn't that Sandburg necessarily wanted to go along, but he was doing it because Daryl was their responsibility.

Jim sighed eloquently, "Well, if you get caught by the security people and tossed out on your asses, I'm pretending I never saw you before in my life. All right, Chief, it's your funeral if you want to traipse down there...but don't come crying to me if you three get lost or something, and miss dinner!"

"We won't miss dinner," Frank laughed. "It'll be a quick in-and-out, I promise. Ten minutes, max!"

#####

They'd had next to no warning. One moment they'd been walking down the corridor on the lowest level of the Sports Complex with no thoughts other than Frank showing Blair and Daryl the innermost recesses of the big building while he had the chance. Although both the visitors were all too familiar with the lesser-known areas of the Sports Arena in _Cascade_ , having had to hide out from terrorists and murderers on more than one occasion, they were perfectly willing to explore the Bayport facility as well.

The next moment, there had been a rumbling, rushing noise, seemingly within the walls surrounding them, a distinct shuddering feeling...and to their great shock, water began streaming down through the ceiling, around the lighting fixtures.

"COME ON! We've gotta get out of here!" Sandburg grabbed Daryl's arm in one hand and Frank's shoulder in the other. He whirled about, heading back in the direction they'd come, towards the stairs.

They almost made it.

With a thunderous _crack!_ the inner wall split open, and more water gushed through the newly-made fissure and flowed down the hallway. Blair, shoving the two boys ahead of him, went down as the streams of water flooding the corridor caused him to lose his footing. He slipped and fell hard, and Frank immediately turned around to aid him.

"Grab my hand, Detective!"

"GO! Go on, get outta here; I'm fine, I'll be right behind you!" Sandburg shouted, and waved them on as he struggled to his feet. A flare of agonizing pain shot through his right leg, and he went down again, realizing that something bad had happened in that fall. Once again he shoved himself up onto his good leg, holding onto the wall for support and balance.

"Blair! What's wrong? Hurry up!" Daryl gestured wildly from the bottom of the stairs, then both he and Frank started back towards the injured detective. "Frank, we need to help him—"

"NO, Daryl! Go, go on, get up the stairs—"

Sandburg's command was never completed, as, with unearthly screeches and groans, with the cacophony of shattering wood and splintering steel, the ceiling caved in above them. The air was filled with dust, pieces of wallboard, lengths of broken rebar...and the sounds of panicked screams from far above them, as the whole corner of the Bayport Sports Complex, structurally weakened by undiscovered broken water pipes, collapsed and sank into the earth.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 3

Standing just out of the rain, watching the hordes of people exiting both the Convention Center and the Sports Complex, Jim, Joe and Con waited patiently for Frank, Daryl and Blair to return.

"I've got five bucks that says they'll never make it back in ten minutes," Con offered, grinning, but Jim shook his head.

"No bet, Riley; I know my partner."

"What, they _will_ be back in ten minutes?"

"Nope. He'll be in there for an hour."

"An HOUR!" Joe exclaimed, appalled. "But what about dinner!?"

Ellison bit back a smile. "If Daryl has anything to say about it," he conceded, "they won't be very late for dinner. How about your brother?"

"Frank said they wouldn't be late for dinner, and he'll keep his word," Joe asserted...although he looked just a trifle doubtful.

"I wish they'd hurry up," Riley complained, as another lightning bolt zigzagged down the leaden sky. "It's going to storm like all get-out any minute!"

Ellison agreed with Con's assessment; his weather-sense was tingling mightily, and he wanted to get inside, away from the thunder, the lightning flashes, and the spatters of wind-driven rain. And he wanted some dinner. _A steak would be nice – a steak and a baked potato. And green beans, and a salad, and...peach pie._ _Snap it up, Chief! I'm gettin' wet, here, and damn hungry!_

Waiting there, just barely sheltered from the driving downpour, Jim Ellison was abruptly aware of the increased rushing-water noise he was picking up. It had nudged at his consciousness all day, a subliminal pestering that he had tried to ignore, but suddenly it was no longer subliminal, it was hammering at him with devastating intensity. He looked over at the fountain, and saw the water jets – barely visible through the rain – falter and disappear, as if a tap had been turned off.

A resounding _crack!_ echoed in the air, sounding almost like another thunderclap or close lightning strike – but Ellison knew it was neither of those things. He took two steps out into the open, his gaze riveted on the nearby Sports Complex, and then another, louder _crack!_ sounded...and to his utter horror, the Sentinel of Cascade saw the corner of the big building – the building containing Blair, Daryl, and Frank Hardy – suddenly collapse in on itself and sink into the ground!

There was a split-second of absolute silence as all the onlookers gaped in horror. Then suddenly the unnatural calm gave way to frenzied chaos: screams and cries of dismay rent the air, people ran about in frantic confusion – those closest to the building in a instinct-driven desire to flee from danger, those further away turning back in morbid fascination.

Subtly, quietly, the attendees of the police procedures seminar temporarily took over: groups of officers from across the nation settled into an unspoken but well-understood chain of command as they began to respond to the emergency. The din of anxious cries began to give way to the more subdued buzz of calm, but urgent, orders issuing from the grim-faced rescuers.

"Jim! I've got to go – need to get in touch with Chief Collig," Con Riley called out. Jim nodded his understanding and waved the other detective on his way, then turned just in time to stop a frantic Joe Hardy from dashing into the collapsed building. .

"FRANK! FRANK!" Joe screeched, and shoved past the Sentinel.

Jim grabbed his arm and jerked him back roughly. "NO!" he shouted, "are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I've got to help Frank!" Joe yelled, completely distraught, and tried to free himself from the detective's iron grip. "That part of the building that fell in – that's where they were...Damnit, Ellison, let me go!"

"You dashing in there isn't going to help Frank – or Daryl, or Blair!" Ellison snarled. "Now hang on a minute and let me think!"

Joe didn't like it, but he realized that Jim had a point. Grudgingly, he waited while Ellison stared bleakly at the devastation. At last the older man stirred. "I'm going after them," he said calmly. "You'd better stay here—"

"No way in hell," Joe snapped. "That's my brother down there! Maybe if you had a brother you'd understand how I feel, but—"

Ellison's head snapped around and Joe shrank back at the haunted, horror-filled expression in the ice-blue eyes. _Ellison not understand? Not care? No way!_

"I do have a brother," the detective said softly. "He's in Cascade, and perfectly safe. But sometimes brotherhood doesn't have anything to do with DNA, Joe. Blair is my partner, and my best friend...and my brother in every way that matters...and he means more to me than anyone else in the world. You got that?"

Joe nodded, feeling ashamed of himself. "Got it," he muttered. "So how can we find them?"

Jim scowled. He knew what he needed to do – but he didn't want to do it in front of the younger Hardy boy. He knew he was going to have to, though, if he was going to find Blair and the others. _God, Blair, where in hell are you...?_ _Concentrate_ _, Ellison, damnit! Blair needs you at the top of your form, not disintegrating!_ He flinched as a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning hammered at him.

"First, we get as close as we can to where we think they might be," he said at last. "You're familiar with the layout of the building and I'm not. So I'm going to need your help."

"Anything." Joe pointed towards the back corner of the building, where the devastation was worst. "Let's start there."

The place was crowded, even though many of the spectators had left before the cave in. But somehow Joe Hardy and Jim Ellison managed to get through the chaos. Only once were they challenged.

"Hey! You two can't go down there!" It was a uniformed Bayport officer who halted their progress.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge. "I'm Detective Ellison, from Cascade, Washington," he said calmly. "I was at the police procedures seminar next door. My partner is in there somewhere – and my boss's son – and his brother." He indicated Joe. "And yes, we're going in."

"I'm Joe Hardy; my brother Frank's down there," Joe put in. He didn't know the officer, but hoped the familiar name might carry some weight.

"You don't have to worry; I was an Army Ranger and a medic as well; I know what I'm doing," Jim added. "And I'll watch out for Joe."

The officer hesitated only a second longer. "Go ahead," he said, and waved them past. "Do you need a flashlight or anything?"

"We're fine," Ellison replied, already picking his way through the rubble again, with Joe scurrying behind him. But they hadn't gone very far before Joe stopped.

"Detective Ellison?"

"What?" Jim barely looked around, just kept searching for places to put his feet that wouldn't start a secondary cave-in.

"Could you wait a minute? I have an idea."

Ellison stopped, and turned, frowning ferociously. "What is it?"

Joe looked around nervously. "Maybe this is of no use...I'm not sure, but..."

"Just spit it out, kid." Ellison's growl would have been intimidating, if Joe hadn't realized that the detective was worried sick about his partner's whereabouts.

"Well...getting through all of this is going to take hours." Joe pointed at the sunken pit filled with what had been walls and floors and electrical wiring. "But – there might – um, I might know another way..."

"What way?" Jim stopped scowling quite so blackly, alert to any new possibility, no matter how bizarre it might be.

"It's...well, once upon a time, way back, there was a theater here. Not a movie theater, a real one, you know, with a stage and an orchestra pit and dressing rooms and all that. One of those real 'off-off-Broadway' types, you know? The Sports Complex was built on top of it, after a fire destroyed most of the building," Joe said hesitantly. "There was a real rabbit-warren of tunnels down underneath. He didn't say so, but that might be part of what Frank was going to show Daryl and Blair."

"And...?" Jim tried to rein in his impatience. They were wasting valuable time; what was the kid's point in all this rambling?

"Well – when we were younger, you know, 12, 13, Frank and I and some of our friends, a whole lot of us, used to explore down there," Joe explained. "We weren't supposed to, of course; our folks said it was dangerous, and all, but we did it anyway. We'd go down and play Capture the Flag in the dark, with just flashlights..." He broke off, seeing Ellison's ill-concealed sigh. "It's just that – I think there might be a way to get into those old tunnels and get under all this!" He gestured at the pit again. "We could maybe get closer that way. I think I could find it, I think we could get to it from the other side of the building, where it didn't fall...But...if you think it's a bad idea, we don't have to...it's just that..."

The detective stopped him with an upraised hand. "Lead the way, kid."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Hardy Boys/Sentinel Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 4

For long moments none of the three stirred. Dirt and debris sifted down over the larger pieces of wallboard and chunks of concrete. The wires which had supplied lighting to the basement were severed; everything had gone dark.

"Blair? Blair? Frank? You guys okay?" Daryl raised his head and spat out a mouthful of grit and dust. He could hear the plash and gurgle of running water, and a great deal of thumping and outcries, seemingly far above his head. To his consternation, he couldn't see a thing in the near-total darkness. He was extremely uncomfortable, lying on his stomach on something very hard and lumpy, but he didn't seem to be in much pain. Cautiously, he scrambled to his hands and knees. "Blair? Frank?"

A soft groan sounded off to the left. "Daryl? Where are you? Can't...see you."

"Frank?" Daryl patted gingerly at the surface in front of him, and started to slowly crawl in the direction of Frank Hardy's voice, testing each inch before he put weight on it. "You okay?"

"Huh-uh...my leg's...it really hurts." The Hardy boy's voice was tight with pain. "Figure it's broken...And...there's something...really heavy – on top of me." He paused, panting slightly. "What happened, anyway?"

Daryl could tell he was getting close to his new friend. "I think the building fell in on top of us," he quavered. He reached out and felt something softer and warmer than wallboard or concrete. It felt like an arm, covered by a jacket sleeve. "Frank?"

A strained chuckle was his reply. "Yeah, you found me. Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"That's good," Frank murmured. Daryl felt him shift minutely, and then heard him grunt with pain.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No...don't think so. Wish we had a...hey, didn't Detective Ellison give you his little flashlight?"

Daryl smacked his forehead. "Duh, I am such a moron!" He felt in his pocket, hoping against hope that he hadn't lost the valuable little toy. "Here it is!"

The beam was small, but in the total darkness which surrounded them, its glow was comfortingly bright. The boys stared at their surroundings – and shivered.

"The ceiling caved in," Daryl breathed. It was like they'd been shut into a box, with a tightly-fitting lid just a few feet above their heads!

"Only it didn't come all the way down," Frank agreed. "The stairs stopped it – jeez, Daryl, if it wasn't for the stairs, we'd have been smashed flat as pancakes!"

"Looks like you were kinda smashed flat anyway," Daryl observed, noting that Frank appeared to be pinned beneath a large sheet of wallboard covered with pieces of wood and chunks of concrete wall. His head was in the clear, and his left arm, but the rest of his body was hidden. Daryl felt somewhat guilty. How had _he_ been so lucky, to have come through unscathed?

"Other than my leg, I don't think I'm much hurt," Frank reassured him. "But I can't get out! Where's Detective Sandburg?" he asked then, and Daryl was hit with another spasm of guilt. Where _was_ Blair?

He flashed his tiny light around their prison, and then gasped and scrambled down the ruins of the staircase as quickly as he could. Blair was lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, almost buried in rubble, and there were dark rivulets of blood streaming across his forehead. His eyes were closed.

"Blair? Blair!" Daryl hovered over the young detective worriedly.

"Don't...don't shake him around, if he's hurt," Frank mumbled, raising his head slightly. He craned his neck, but was unable to see the other two. "He's...alive, isn't he?" he added.

"Yeah...he's breathing," Daryl said uncertainly. "But his head's bleeding pretty bad, Frank – and he's kinda...squashed!"

"SQUASHED?" Frank echoed in horror. Hopefully Daryl was exaggerating. "Head wounds bleed a lot," Frank encouraged the other boy. "He had the little light, and the first-aid kit, and water," he reminded Daryl. "Can you get 'em?"

"Maybe..." There was tense silence for awhile, as Daryl worked to remove some of the rubble covering Blair. "Should I try to turn him over, you think?" he asked Frank. "He's sort of half on his face..."

"Does it look like he's hurt anywhere else? More blood – broken bones, anything like that?"

"Um...no, don't think so." From the sounds Frank could pick up, Daryl was endeavoring to move the detective. "His leg was hurt, though...remember? He couldn't walk on it, right before..."

"He might have broken ribs or something like that." Frank was frustrated; he had a feeling that he knew more first aid than Daryl Banks did, and he yearned to be able to help the injured Detective Sandburg, but he was pinned down as surely as if he'd been a butterfly on a display board. Daryl _meant_ well, but... "Keep talking to him," he suggested. "Try to get him to wake up. And if you can get any more of the junk off him, do that, too."

"I think I can get the first aid kit and the light – and the water – now...Got 'em," Daryl muttered, after a moment, and then there was another small light source illuminating their burrow. "Blair..." he said softly. "Blair, can you hear me? C'mon, man, wake up – please?"

"Can you bandage his head? Is he bleeding anywhere else?" Frank asked anxiously, once again trying to see Daryl and the detective – without success

"Yes...and no, not that I can see." Daryl spent a few minutes verbally pestering Sandburg as he cleaned and bandaged the head wound, and was finally rewarded by a muted groan from the detective, followed by mumbled words:

"J'm? Jiiiiiiim?"

"Blair? It's Daryl. Jim's not here, man; Frank and I are."

"Jim...wh're's Jim...? Hurts..." Sandburg's voice was very faint.

"What hurts? Blair, can you open your eyes? Tell me what hurts, man."

"Head...and...it hurts...to breathe... Dar'l?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Wh're's...Jim? I need...Jim."

"Blair, man, Jim's..." But before he could frame an answer to the question, he realized that Blair had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Daryl sighed. "Ah, damn. Jim...Jim'll find us," he whispered reassuringly, even though he knew Sandburg was no longer aware of his words. "Don't worry, Blair, Jim'll find us." After a moment he turned towards Frank. "He will, too," he asserted. "If anyone can find us, Jim can. He and Blair found my dad and me when we were captured by a drug lord in Peru."

"You were what?" Frank sounded incredulous. "Are you kidding?"

"No, not kidding. Jim and Blair parachuted into the jungle and rescued us – and a whole lotta other people, too! So – Jim will find us," he finished confidently, and bent over Sandburg again, wiping at the dried blood on the man's face with a dampened piece of gauze.

"Daryl? What's that funny noise?" Frank asked, after a moment.

"What funny – oh! It's water – remember, water came through the walls? It's still leaking in..." Daryl stopped speaking abruptly, and aimed his little flashlight at the rubble-strewn floor. _Uh-oh!_ "Frank? I think we may be in trouble, here. Not us, so much...you're up pretty high, and I can get up the stairs. But...Blair. Blair's on the floor...and man, the water's getting higher!"

There was a period of silence as the two boys pondered their predicament.

"Can you move him up higher?" Frank asked at last.

"Maybe...but what if I hurt him worse, moving him?"

"Can't be helped. We can't let him drown—" Frank broke off as Daryl gasped audibly. "What is it?"

"What you said – about him drowning. He...he already did, Frank! Back a year or so ago...before he was a cop, when he was still an observer. This woman – she stole some nerve gas, and she hit him over the head and dumped him into a fountain on Rainier University's campus. It wasn't just because of the nerve gas," he added in a doubtful tone. "It was...something personal, I think."

'No way..." Frank breathed. "But – but he's—"

"My dad and Jim and some of the other detectives from Major Crimes got there and did CPR – the medics said it was too late...that he was gone." Daryl's voice quivered at the memory. "Jim wouldn't give up...he just wouldn't quit. Somehow, he managed to bring him back."

Frank absorbed this in silence for a few moments. "Well, then we sure aren't going to let him drown again!" he said at last. "Be as careful as you can, Daryl, but get him as far away from that water as possible!"

Daryl brought the second light and the first aid kit and set them close to Frank. He offered the Hardy boy a drink of water from Blair's little bottle, which Frank gratefully accepted. He then returned to the unconscious Sandburg's side and once more began scraping and shoving at the wreckage still keeping him trapped.

"Frank? I don't think I can move him much...but I can push some of this stuff into a pile – sort of like building a dam. It might keep the water back a while longer – whaddya think?"

"I think that's a really good idea...and we could use some more light. And I can't reach it, but maybe you can get my little light from my pocket...We've got to do whatever we can to keep him safe until someone gets here to get us out." _IF someone gets here, that is..._

#####

"Okay." Ellison pulled Joe to a stop. "We can't go any further yet." He stared around them at the dark maze of tunnels which Joe had led him to and through. Although _he_ could see perfectly well with his enhanced sight, he couldn't exactly go plunging through seeking Blair and the others without giving away secrets. _Joe_ , after all, wouldn't be able to see! "It's too dark."

"You gave your little flashlight to Daryl," Joe said, sounding slightly amused, "but you know what, Detective Ellison, Frank and I usually carry them ourselves." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, cylindrical object. He thumbed the top, and a brilliant, bluish-white halogen beam shot out, lighting their area with startling intensity. Jim flinched back, instinctively shielding his eyes as he hastily dialed sight down to a tolerable level.

"You come prepared, kid." There was grudging respect in the ex-Ranger's voice. "Let's go."

On they went, They didn't talk much; they were both concentrating on the task at hand: getting as close as they possibly could to the destroyed area of the Sports Complex, in the hope that they might find Frank, Daryl and Blair. They had no idea whether or not the rescue crews might think to come this way – so far, Jim hadn't noticed any sounds or signs that anyone besides him and Joe had even considered it.

He had been preparing for damp and dank; for possible sewage, for the presence of rats. To his surprise, the tunnels were dry, although the years' worth of dust layers made him sneeze himself nearly breathless. There didn't seem to be an enormity of rodent life; although he did occasionally hear the nervous skittering of tiny feet, it sounded like mice, rather than the terrier-sized creatures which had occupied Sandburg's old warehouse abode.

The Sentinel began to cautiously expand his senses. It was quiet down here, except for their footfalls and the distant thump and clatter and turmoil of searchers working far above their heads. If there was any time tailor-made for him, this was it.

"Hold up, Joe." Ellison stopped, standing near the end of a long corridor; he could see it dead-ended a short distance away. Doors opened on both sides, but they already had discovered that these doors led into single rooms, not other hallways. Once they reached the end of this one, it was retrace to the starting point and try again. "I want to try something."

"What is it?"

 _DAMN, I don't want to do this...I have to do this; I don't have a choice. I have to trust this kid, otherwise Blair and Daryl and Frank...I have to trust him._ "I've got pretty good hearing," he said carefully. "We're gonna yell for Sandburg and Daryl and your brother, and then I'm going to listen for any response. And I need you to...to..." _How do I put this so it's believable?_ "I need something to hang onto, to help me concentrate. Okay?"

"Okay, Detective Ellison." Joe gulped nervously; he'd never encountered anyone quite like Jim Ellison before, and the man was sort of terrifying. Reassuring, but terrifying. "Whatever..."

Jim took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, trying to pull into that 'centering' mode Blair was always yapping about. He reached out and set a hand on Joe Hardy's arm – and involuntarily sucked in another breath – this one in astonishment!

 _Hey! What's this?_ For instead of the 'no change' he'd expected, there was a definite sharpening of his senses when he touched Joe's arm. Nothing like the effortless ease of his connections with Blair, of course – but infinitely better than he'd ever experienced with Simon Banks or Megan Connor, who'd both made attempts to 'ground' him in the past. He lifted his hand, and the sharpness faded; he once more rested his hand on the younger Hardy's arm – and again, felt the effort of using his senses smoothed. _Well, I'll be damned!_ _Another_ _natural Guide? Sheesh, Sandburg'd have a field day with this!_

Joe was watching him curiously. "Detective? You okay?"

"Yeah." Jim nodded, his brow puckering into a frown. "Kid? Anybody ever tell you, ask you, if you might have, uh...empathetic abilities?"

Joe chuckled. "Um...no, I don't think so – although Frank and I tend to sorta think alike, sometimes. Think things at the same time – know what the other one's got in mind. But just him – no one else. Why?"

"Never mind." Ellison shook his head dismissively. "Look, if you think I'm starting to drift, shake me or say something to me, okay? Tap me. Hell, slap me, if you have to."

"Uh...okay, I guess," Joe said uncertainly.

"Okay – first, we yell for Sandburg and Daryl and Frank. Go ahead, you first."

Joe took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs: "FRANK! FRANK! DARYL! Detective Sandburg!"

Jim's bellow followed close, sounding almost like he ought to be barking across a parade ground: "Frank!? Daryl? DARYL! SANDBURG?! CHIEF? BLAIR!" He paused for breath. "Try again," he urged, and Joe repeated his pleas for his brother and the others. "Now," Ellison said in a much quieter tone, "we wait. And hope they're somewhere close...and able to respond."

He laid his hand on Joe's arm again, and half-closed his eyes, extending his hearing carefully, It wasn't nearly as easy as it would have been with Blair, but slowly he managed to narrow his focus down...

' _...tive Ellison? Joe?' 'Jim? We're...Blair's uncon...Frank's...trapped!'_ Two distinct voices – neither of them his Guide's. Both of them frightened.

Ellison opened his eyes fully and stared into Joe's anxious ones. "They're alive."

#####

It was early afternoon in Cascade. Simon Banks leaned back in his desk chair and wondered how his son was getting along back east. He hoped he was having a good time at the basketball games, and had found some congenial people to hang with. Ellison and Sandburg were his heroes, of course, but they wouldn't be attending the games with him...

"Captain?" A nervous-looking Detective Brown popped his head into Banks' office. "Something came up on the Internet – breaking news. A building collapsed in Bayport, New York; the one where they were holding the basketball games – isn't that where Daryl went? And Jim and Hairboy?"

"WHAT?" The police captain catapulted out of his chair and, not bothering to activate his own computer, followed Henri Brown out into the bullpen, where several of the Major Crimes squad were huddled around a desk, staring at a computer monitor.

Banks joined them, staring as well – and his heart began to pound furiously as he skimmed through the fateful words: "Portion of Sports Complex collapsed – unknown number of casualties, many feared injured...broken water pipes...severe electrical storm..."

"Oh, dear Lord..." _Daryl! Ellison and Sandburg – they can survive almost anything, but...DARYL!_


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 5

It seemed to Joe that he and Detective Ellison had been slogging through tunnels and trying to find access to impenetrable spaces for hours, although a quick look at his watch told him that it had been less than 45 minutes from the time they'd slithered through the old, half-hidden and long-forgotten entrance.

Joe thanked his lucky stars that he'd managed to remember where it was, after all these years, and that it hadn't been caved in when he _did_ find it! The fact that Ellison had, somehow – Joe still wasn't quite sure how – heard a response to their frantic calls was encouraging, but what if something had happened _since_ then? Ellison seemed tireless, moving with grim purpose, his head tilted at an angle almost like he was still listening for Frank and the others – _but that's impossible! I wonder how he can tell where he's going, though, when I'm behind him and I've got the flashlight?_ _Maybe it's a Ranger thing...I wonder if we're getting any closer to Frank and the others? Ellison seems to know where he's going, but...how can I be sure?_ Joe sighed softly. _I'm better off with him than I'd be trying to find Frank on my own, though...can't argue with that!_

Jim's thoughts were even more bleak than Joe's, for he could hear the sullen, subterranean gurgle of water as it ran into the building – as well as the creaks and cracks and groans as the overstressed building settled further into the earth – and even if the public works department had gotten the water shut off, there was still far too much for comfort, especially down in these bottom levels. Try though he might to dispel them, images kept flashing before his eyes, images of Blair lying trapped beneath piles of rubble and debris while water crept inexorably up around him – crept ever higher, until it covered his face...and his Guide, his partner, his best friend, drowned once more – and this time, Jim Ellison arrived too late to save him!

 _This isn't happening...this can't be happening...it can't be...not again! I won't LET IT!_ Grimly, Ellison forged on, Joe Hardy close behind.

#####

"Captain Banks? Captain? Simon?"

Simon Banks raised his head and stared bleakly at an anxious-eyed Rhonda. His blonde personal assistant hovered in the doorway of his private office.

"What is it?" he rasped.

"I tried calling the Bayport police – all I could find out is that part of the building went down – not all of it, just one section. They didn't have casualty lists yet; there hasn't been time. They did say that the building had already almost emptied before the collapse, though – Simon, Daryl could be just fine, you're probably worrying for nothing!"

"I tried calling their cell phones – Ellison and Sandburg's. Neither one answered. Does that tell you anything?"

"It tells me that they left their phones in their hotel room," Rhonda said stoutly. "Or they turned them off so they wouldn't get interrupted during the seminar sessions."

Banks stared at her somberly. "I hope you're right," he sighed. "I wish Daryl had taken his phone. He left it at home rather than bother switching calling plans just for a few days."

"And if you couldn't reach him either, would that help?" Rhonda asked softly.

Simon glared. "No, but if I could reach him it would help a whole damn lot!" He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Rhonda."

"I'll keep pestering the Bayport people for updates," she said, and departed.

#####

"Daryl? How's the water level?" Frank looked at his wristwatch, glad that his left arm was free, at least, and thankful that so far their lights were still shining brightly. It had been over half an hour since Daryl started piling debris up, trying to keep the advancing water away from Blair Sandburg's unconscious body.

"Still rising," the other boy replied grimly. "I can't seem to keep it back, Frank; it's up almost to his ears...I've propped his head up a little, but—"

"Daryl, stop! Shhh! Just for a minute!" Frank lifted his head again, straining to hear. For just an instant he could have sworn he'd heard Joe's voice, raised in a frantic scream, calling his name. "Listen! I thought I heard..."

Below, kneeling in the sodden debris, the dark-skinned boy listened intently as well, and after a moment they both heard it, muffled and distorted but very, very real – Jim Ellison's voice, calling their names:

" _Frank!? Daryl? DARYL! SANDBURG?! CHIEF?_ _BLAIR_ _!"_

Both boys responded at the same time, their cries blending: 'Detective Ellison? Joe? Joe?' 'Jim? We're here! We're here! Blair's hurt...he's unconscious! Frank's trapped!'

But their only reply was silence, and hope flickered...and died. How could Jim and Joe – or anyone else – find them in this little prison? And even if they could...how could they be rescued, before the rising water submerged them – starting with Blair Sandburg?

#####

The two rescuers eyed the last obstacle in their way. On the other side of that wall, they were quite sure, were Frank and Daryl and Blair. Jim had fastened onto his partner's familiar heartbeat quite some time ago. It was steady and slow, and he suspected that Blair was either asleep or unconscious...which worried him; it was unlikely Sandburg was asleep, and if he wasn't asleep, he had been unconscious far too long. The Sentinel had identified two other heartbeats as well, although which was Frank Hardy's and which Daryl Banks', he had no clue. They were excited and stressed and worried...but neither of them sounded to be in serious distress, thank God!

"Let's try here."

"Can we kick through it?" Joe asked, eyeing the wall dubiously in the light of his little flashlight.

"Since we don't have anything to cut or break through it with, that's our only option," Ellison replied. "We're as close as we're going to get, far as I can tell."

Joe nodded his agreement. "We can't get any speed or momentum in here; there's not enough room," he noted.

"Got any good karate moves?" the detective asked, with a little grin.

"Frank's better, but I know a few." Joe laid the little flashlight on the floor so that it illuminated the wall, and squared his shoulders. Then he turned sideways to the wall and prepped himself for the assault.

Beside him, Jim Ellison matched his moves. He was no karate expert either, but years of training in all sorts of fighting methods had made him familiar with the techniques. "Wait a minute, let's warn them." He cleared his throat and then thundered: "DARYL! FRANK! It's Jim – and Joe. We're going to kick through the wall! Okay?"

It didn't take a Sentinel's enhanced hearing to catch the answering yells, and Jim smiled tightly at Joe. "Okay, on three. One...two...three!"

The two leaped forward, their legs shooting out in powerful kicks which struck the wallboard with considerable force. Jim's foot dented the wall but didn't go all the way through; Joe's heel punched a hole.

They drew back, panting, preparing for the next assault.

"Bet you hit a stud," Joe said, "that's why you didn't go through. Move over a little bit." He pointed. "Let's both try to hit as close to where my foot went in as we can."

Ellison nodded, and again they leaped, kicking with all their might. This time both of them broke through the wallboard. Jim jerked his foot free, grabbed at the edges of the hole, and began tearing at the wall; Joe caught his balance and then added his efforts. In only a minute or two, they'd ripped enough off to bare the studding to view.

"Still have to get through the other side," Joe panted.

To their surprise, there was suddenly a banging and thumping on the other side of the wall. "Jim!? Joe!?" a muffled voice cried.

"Daryl? Hang on, we're almost there!"

"Daryl, move away from the wall, we're going to break through!" Ellison ordered loudly. He started to raise his foot for another kick between two studs, and then stopped and turned to Joe. "Your legs are younger than mine, kid. You do it; I'll brace you."

His teeth bared in an almost feral grin, Joe nodded, and grasped the studs, balancing on one foot. He felt Ellison's steadying hands on him, and took a deep breath. _Hang on, Frank, we'll be there in just a minute!_ With a ferocious scream, Joe leapt and kicked out – and felt the plasterboard give beneath the onslaught.

"OW!" Joe couldn't help the involuntary yelp of pain as his shin came in contact with one of the wall studs.

"Easy! Pull your foot back!" Detective Ellison was still holding him up. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine!" Joe quickly pulled his foot from the hole he'd made in the wall, and managed to regain his footing, briefly rubbing his stinging leg. "Let's get in there!"

Ellison was already shoving through, and his efforts were now aided by someone – Daryl – clawing at the rapidly-enlarging hole from the other side. They cleared enough space between two studs to wriggle through – and Jim and Joe stopped, gazing at an incredible sight:

The small enclosure was cozily lighted by two tiny keychain-lights and Frank's blue-white halogen flash. Where once had been a nine-foot ceiling, there was now less than six feet between top and bottom. Near the top of a half-crumbled staircase, Frank Hardy lay, nearly concealed beneath the rubble. Daryl Banks crouched in front of them, still tugging at pieces of plasterboard to enlarge the gap in the wall...and Blair Sandburg lay at the foot of the stairs. A sort of dam, consisting of chunks of concrete and pieces of wood, had been constructed about him in an effort to hold back the encroaching water, but even so, he was half-submerged.

Frank's voice shook slightly: "'Bout time you got here!"

"We stopped and caught a movie first," Joe said, his voice as shaky as his brother's. "Should I go back and get a rescue team?" he asked Ellison softly.

Jim shook his head. "Not yet; let's see what we've got first. Maybe we can get them out ourselves," he said, equally quietly. Louder, he added "Daryl, you okay? Frank, what about you?"

"I'm fine," Daryl answered immediately. "But Blair's hurt, Jim – he's come to a couple of times, but he's been out more than in. He took a couple of nasty whacks on the head, and his leg's hurt, too."

 _I know he's hurt...I've known it the whole time..._ Ellison nodded briefly.

"My leg hurts, but I'm mostly just stuck," Frank said. "If you can just get me outta here..."

Joe and Daryl immediately began working to extricate Frank from his temporary prison; Ellison hastened to join his partner. He squatted down, sliding his hand beneath Blair's neck to raise his head slightly, lifting it from the water. "Sandburg? Chief, you with me here?"

After a few moments of Jim's gentle prodding, Blair opened his eyes. His expression was one of extreme weariness and desolation...until he grasped who was bending over him. "Jim?" he whispered in disbelief. "Wh-where'd you come from?" He blinked slowly, letting his eyes drift shut. "I figured we were goners, man."

"You think I'd give you up that easily?"

"Everybody has limits...even you." Blair shivered. "Didn't think you...could find us...in time."

"Well, you were wrong, Sandburg – although I won't say you didn't make it difficult. I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Ellison said whimsically. "You're barely out of the airport and buildings start falling down around your ears!"

"Man, I've been...outta the airport...whole day," his partner murmured. "Not my fault."

"Sandburg, you'd just walked inside and the Sports Complex collapsed! You know, you ought to come with a warning label!"

"Just...lucky that way." Sandburg shifted slightly and flinched. "Jim, I don't wanna discuss this right now, okay?"

"Suits me." The Sentinel maneuvered until he could get his partner's head situated comfortably against his knees, and brushed back the tangled wet hair from Blair's pale face. "Just take it easy; everything's gonna be all right. How're you feeling?"

Blair eyed him with profound disfavor. "My head hurts," he said bitterly. "My leg hurts. My back aches. I'm lying in water, Jim! Cold water! I just had a building fall on me. How the hell do you think I feel?"

"You're making it pretty clear," Ellison conceded. "Just hang on a little longer, Chief; we'll have you outta there in no time!"

A few feet away, Frank Hardy was making similar complaints – without reference to lying in cold water – as Joe and Daryl worked to free him, but they were too relieved to pay much attention to his griping.

"What the heck am I going to tell Mom?" Joe asked, scraping rubble away from his brother's body.

"Start out by telling her we're both fine," Frank advised. "Take the initiative, Joe!"

"Man, that's a good idea!" Daryl corroborated. "I think I'll have to do that with Dad. 'Hi, Dad, I'm fine. I'm just fine.' That's a good way to start the conversation." He looked over at the two detectives. "He'll have heard about this, won't he?"

Jim looked slightly uncomfortable. "I hadn't even thought about that," he muttered. "But something like this would have been all over the news as soon as it happened."

"And neither of us had our cells with us," Blair added. "Simon's probably been trying to call us for hours." He shivered again, and groaned. "Jim, can't you get me out of here? I...don't feel so good, ya know?"

"Okay, just hang on, partner." Ellison laid the back of his hand against Blair's pale cheek for an instant, frowned, and began removing debris from around him. "Joe, Daryl, could you give me a hand for a minute? Frank's not going anyplace, and Blair's pretty chilled, here, from being in the water..."

"We're got it anyway," Joe announced, as he and Daryl hefted the largest piece of wall off his older brother, essentially freeing him. "There you go, Frank!" They hurried to join Jim and aid his efforts.

A few minutes of concentrated work resulted in Sandburg being carefully extricated from his watery resting place, carried up the broken steps, and laid gently beside Frank. Jim knelt down again, removed his jacket, and wrapped it around his shivering partner, then pulled him close, trying to impart a little warmth.

"That better?"

"M-much. Th-thanks, man."

"Jim, is he okay?" Daryl's whisper was so soft that Ellison was startled...just how much did Daryl know, that he kept to himself? He glanced up and caught the boy's smirk. _Obviously more than he lets on!_

"Hypothermic," he murmured, and all three boys looked concerned. "Don't worry, he'll be fine," Jim said aloud, encouragingly. "Won't you, Chief?"

"F-fine, yup..." Blair shivered again. "J-j-just wet."

"And a few other minor details, like this?" Jim queried, touching the bandage on Blair's head with gentle fingers.

"That t-too."

"Daryl? You do this?" Ellison asked. When Daryl nodded bashfully, Jim gave him a grateful smile. "Good job – couldn't have done any better myself," he complimented him. "See, Chief? I told you a first aid kit would come in handy this afternoon!"

"V-very funny."

"Frank told me what to do," Daryl confessed. "I probably wouldn't have—"

"You'd have done just fine," Frank interrupted, and the other boy smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, man. Jim, Blair's leg is hurt, too – and maybe other things, but I couldn't really do anything else for him..." Daryl still sounded very worried and apologetic.

"Daryl, you did good – I mean it. You did the best you could with what you had; no one could have asked any more of you," the big detective said. While cuddling his roommate to warm him, he'd also been discreetly checking him for further injuries, using dialed-up touch. He'd noted a lot of bruising, especially when he felt a rib or two – Blair had probably been hit with falling debris – but hadn't worked his way down as far as the legs. "Which leg, Chief?"

"Um...right ankle."

"And just when were you going to let me in on that little detail, Sandburg?"

"When I needed to...stand up," Blair murmured.

Jim grunted, more in amusement than annoyance, the boys chuckled, and Blair smiled drowsily at his ability to inject a little humor into the situation. The smile turned into a sharp wince when Jim ran his fingers over the injury.

"OW!"

"Sorry...don't feel anything broken, but I'll bet you've given yourself a nasty sprain, possibly torn something. It's pretty swollen right now. How'd you do it, anyway?"

"Slipped in the water and rolled it, when the wall started going. Tryin' to get up the steps."

"Ah." The Sentinel dug through the little first aid kit he'd pulled from his pocket, and found a small elastic wrap bandage. "Let's put this on; it won't hurt, and it might help." He glanced over at Joe, who'd been doing something similar with Frank. "What's the diagnosis for your patient, Doctor Hardy?"

Joe looked embarrassed but flattered. "I think that his leg's maybe broken, but I'd appreciate it if you'd check it," he said. "You told that police officer you'd been a medic...?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Ellison murmured, concentrating on his job of wrapping Blair's leg. "Army Rangers."

"Covert Ops," Blair whispered proudly; now it was Jim's turn to flush with embarrassment.

"A medic's a medic," he said dismissively, but he doubted that the boys or Blair really believed him. "And that wasn't my primary job anyway." _No, your primary job was a whole lot nastier than that...but you aren't going to explain all that to these kids. And Blair probably suspects, but he doesn't need to know details either!_

He finished making Blair as comfortable as possible, and moved to check the elder Hardy boy. After a few minutes he sat back on his heels and smiled reassuringly at Frank. "Your brother's a pretty good guesser; I'd say he's right: that left leg's likely fractured. But it's not displaced, and I'm betting it's not broken all the way through. Since we have another of these—" he held up the second Ace bandage— "I'll wrap it, just to add some support, but you aren't going to try walking on it, not putting weight on it, got that?"

Frank nodded meekly. "Yessir."

"Are we going to be able to get Frank and Blair out of here by ourselves?" Joe asked, while waiting for Jim to finish.

Ellison considered the question carefully, mentally assessing everyone's conditions. Of them all, Sandburg was in the worst shape – somehow, that didn't strike him as being the least bit unusual! Frank couldn't walk unaided, but seemed otherwise okay. Daryl – well, Daryl had some bruises and scrapes and such, but was essentially unharmed. He, himself and Joe were fine, physically, although once the adrenaline rush cut out, he had doubts about either of them holding up for long.

"I don't see why not," he answered Joe at last. "If we can find something for Frank to use as a crutch."

"Rebar?" Daryl suggested, and began looking around for a suitable length.

"Find me a piece too, Daryl," Blair spoke up. "My ankle's just sprained; I can walk outta here if Frank can."

Daryl looked at Jim. In the dim light of the little flashlights, he could just make out the detective's raised eyebrows and skeptical grin, but Ellison shrugged and moved to sit next to his partner again. "We can try it," was his only comment. Inwardly, he added: _And it better be soon. Those little flashlights aren't going to last forever!_


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 6

Considering how long it had taken them to make their way in and find Frank, Daryl and Detective Sandburg, getting _out_ was surprisingly simple, Joe Hardy thought to himself. Although by this time the little key-chain lights were flickering weakly and threatening to expire, his and Frank's halogen lights were still beaming brightly and giving enough light for the five of them to make their halting way through the subterranean corridors. He carried one light, Daryl the other.

To Joe's surprise, Detective Ellison wasn't throwing his age, experience and expertise around and demanding to lead the party; he was apparently leaving that to Joe – and to Frank, whose memory of playing in the old theater was just as sharp as his brother's. Ellison seemed content to allow the Hardys to lead the way – Frank leaning heavily on Joe's shoulder as well as a sturdy length of rebar – while he and Daryl brought up the rear, supporting Sandburg between them.

"How'd you guys do it?" Frank whispered as they trudged along in the dimness. "I hoped you might remember this, but we didn't have any idea how much of the building had gone down. We really didn't have a whole lot of hope of being rescued," he confessed. "Although Daryl kept saying Jim would find us."

"Man, I don't know how he did it!" Joe returned, equally softly. "He said he had really good hearing, and when we yelled for you he heard you answer – but that was later. He let me take the lead in getting in...because I knew the way. But once we were down here, he just...it was almost like he was tracking, ya know?" Joe sighed. "But jeez, the man was an Army Ranger, and all – guess we shouldn't be surprised."

"He's not just ex-Army," Frank responded. "Daryl said that he was stranded all alone in Peru, after a helicopter crash killed his whole team. For 18 months, Joe! He lived with a Peruvian Indian tribe...just think of what he might have learned from them!"

"Wow." Joe was silent for a few moments. Finally he said, "Frank, I don't care if the man's from Planet Krypton, as long as he was able to find you and get everybody out safely!"

###

Walking some distance behind the two Hardys, Jim Ellison was having some trouble stifling his laughter, for to him, their whispered conversation was quite audible. He could have turned his hearing down to normal or below, of course, but he was reluctant to do so, for he wanted to be able to check for any signs of instability in the building which remained – at the moment! – above their heads. _And_ to keep an eagle eye – make that _ear_ – on his best friend's condition, and that included constantly monitoring all Sandburg's vitals.

Blair nudged him. "What's so funny?" Evidently he'd felt him laughing. Not surprising, as Jim's arm was wrapped snugly about him, and Blair's arms were draped over his companions' shoulders; he was nearly being carried along between the taller Ellison and Daryl Banks.

Jim bent his head so that his lips were millimeters away from his partner's ear. "I'll tell you later," he breathed, "but trust me, you'll think it's funny too!"

Sandburg sighed. "I was worried about you," he whispered, Sentinel-soft. "I knew you'd come looking for us – IF you were okay yourself. But I didn't know...there was the thunder and lightning, and that's always bad for you using your senses. And I – I was afraid you might...well, you know. You swear you didn't have any trouble?"

Ellison nodded, and leaned in close again. "I'll tell you all about it later," he promised, and then squeezed Blair very gently, mindful of his damaged ribs. "But you know that when you're involved, I'm less likely to spike or zone out; the stakes are too high, partner!"

Daryl, catching only a word or two of the detectives' quiet conversation, just smiled to himself and kept his own counsel.

#####

At last the five of them clambered out of the last tunnel and into the open air once more. To their surprised gratification, the electrical storm had apparently blown over; only a light drizzle was now falling. Another surprise was the lack of people. When Joe and Jim had gone down, there had been frightened people, organized chaos among the law-enforcement cadre, and sirens and lights. Now it was nearly deserted!

"It must not have been as bad as they first thought," Joe observed, looking around as they moved slowly towards the central plaza area. "Just that one part fell in."

"And there weren't many people in that area of the building," Jim Ellison said dryly. "Since it wasn't supposed to be open to the public, and most of the people on the floors above had already gotten out. You three might have been the only ones—"

"JOE! FRANK! JIM!"

They halted at the loud hail, and saw Con Riley sprinting towards them. He skidded to a stop, relief evident on his face.

"You're all right – ARE you all right? Everyone else was accounted for, except for you...and I knew you two would have gone to find them, and you didn't come back, and I didn't want to leave without knowing what had happened to you—"

Blair and Jim spoke simultaneously: "Breathe, Con!" and then both broke into laughter. Blair winced and bent over slightly, trying to ease the strain laughing put on his ribs, and Jim hastily moved to wrap both arms about him in support.

"Easy, Chief...Well, as you can see, Con, we found our lost sheep – and with only minimal damage, I think. Frank and Blair need to get to a hospital, but I think Daryl's just shaken up...and Joe and I are fine."

"I'm fine too!" Daryl put in hastily. "I don't need to be checked out!"

"All the ambulances have left," Con said, adding his support to Joe's so that Frank could let his rebar-cane drop to the ground. "There ended up only being a few dozen people who were actually injured, thank God! I can take Frank and Blair in my car, though..."

Ellison felt Blair stiffen at that suggestion. "It'll be okay," he reassured quietly, knowing that his Guide didn't want them to be separated at the moment.

"Our van's here," Joe put in. "I can take Frank – actually, I could probably take everyone!"

"Why don't you take Frank and Daryl?" Jim suggested. "Blair and I can ride with Con. Then you can drop us at our hotel later, Joe, since we'd all fit in your van." _Assuming that Sandburg's not required to spend the night in the hospital!_ he added in his head. "We came here in the shuttle provided by the convention center."

"That works," Con agreed, and Joe nodded.

They were moving slowly towards the vast parking lot when suddenly the younger Hardy slapped a hand to his pocket. "I've gotta call Mom!" he gasped. "She's probably been having kittens, if she heard about this and we didn't call her!"

"At least you still have your phone," Frank groused. "Mine's smashed into little pieces!"

Daryl looked stricken as well. "After you do that, could I borrow your phone, Joe? I don't have mine, and I think I'd better call my dad right away!"

Joe nodded, already hitting numbers on the keypad. "No problem...Hey, Mom, it's me. We're okay!"

Jim wasn't consciously trying to listen in, but his dial control was slipping just a little at the moment. Mrs. Hardy's voice came through loud and clear, sounding entirely unworried.

" _Joe? Why wouldn't you be okay? How were the games? I was wondering how late you were going to stay out..."_

"Uh—" Joe was backpedaling frantically now. "You haven't – uh – had the news on, then?"

" _No, I haven't. What did I miss? Did something happen at the game?"_

"Well, sort of – a corner of the building collapsed into the basement – a water-pipe leak had damaged things, I guess."

" _The_ _building_ _collapsed?"_ Now Mrs. Hardy's voice was distressed _. "Were you and Frank involved? Are you sure you're all right?"_

"Well...Frank's hurt his leg, but I'm going to swing by the ER and get him checked over, okay? And then we'll be home." Joe, catching the others' eyes, momentarily clasped his hands on his chest and mimed praying before putting the cell phone back to his ear. "Okay, Mom?"

" _Well...I guess so...If you're sure..."_

"I'm sure. We'll be home after awhile – oh, it may be late, 'cause we have to give a ride to some other people. We'll explain it all when we get home. I gotta go, someone else needs to use my phone to call his folks too! Bye, Mom!" And Joe flipped his phone closed, ending the conversation.

Jim Ellison and Con Riley were laughing aloud; Blair was snickering, Frank was grinning broadly, and Daryl's smile was full of admiration.

"Wow!" Daryl said, as Joe handed him the cell phone. "That was somethin' else, man! But won't you get it in the neck when you get home and your mom finds out Frank's broken his leg and you didn't tell her?"

"At that point she'll be too relieved that I'm fine and it wasn't worse that she'll forget to scold," Frank said hopefully.

"And I thought you were the best there is at talking your way out of things!" Jim said to Blair, still chuckling. "I think you've got some competition, buddy!"

"A worthy successor," Blair said magnanimously. "I think Joe and I need to have some long conversations on the arts of obfuscation and misdirection! Call it advanced training..." He paused, swaying dizzily, and Ellison and Daryl both moved to support him again. "Some...sometime later," the young detective added, and leaned heavily against his partner, closing his eyes.

"Hospital...now!" Ellison decreed, and glanced at Con. "I hope your car's close, because he's heavier than he looks!" Without further comment, he adjusted his grip slightly and swung Blair up into his arms. "Shhh!" he added to his protesting roommate. "You're not getting a vote on this." Blair sighed and subsided, letting his throbbing head rest against Jim's shoulder.

"Stay right there; I'll bring the car to you," Riley replied,, and jogged away.

"We're over this way," Joe said to Daryl, and the three boys moved slowly in another direction. Daryl began punching buttons on Joe's phone as they walked, and his voice drifted back to the Sentinel's ears:

"Hello, Dad? I'm fine, I'm just fine...! Really!"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

Thank you, Mas1581 and Sarai for your kind feedback!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 7

It was close to midnight before Detectives Ellison and Sandburg made their weary way into their Bayport Travelers' Lodge room. If Blair had been required to spend the night in the hospital, Jim intended to spend it there also; he would have sent Daryl to the motel in a taxi, if necessary. But much Sandburg-resistance to the doctor's suggestion that he be kept overnight had prevailed, and Blair had been sent on his way, bandaged, provided with crutches, and laden with pain meds.

Frank had been released as soon as his leg was set and the cast was semi-dry, but to Ellison's surprise, he and Joe insisted on staying to find out how Blair was. As the minutes ticked by, however, Jim finally convinced them to head for home – by making the simple request that they take Daryl back to the motel! The Hardys agreed; moreover, they invited Daryl to 'come over and hang out' the following day at their home...since, as far as they knew, the NCAA playoff games were cancelled! If they were rescheduled to be played in a different arena, then at least the boys would be together, would have their tickets, and Daryl could go to the games with Frank and Joe – which suited everyone nicely.

When Frank quietly suggested this plan to Daryl, saying that getting him away from Ellison's anxious hovering and Sandburg's sick-and-cranky irritability would be a blessing to all concerned, Jim had been forced to choke down his combined hilarity and chagrin, pretending he hadn't heard a thing! Since he couldn't exactly argue the point – being quite aware of his own propensity for coddling his Guide whenever he considered it necessary, and also fully aware of Blair's tendency to bitch and gripe while refusing to take it easy, when not feeling well – he had heartily condoned the idea when Daryl proposed it to him, a few minutes later!

Con Riley had proven to be an unexpected help, for instead of dropping his fellow detectives off at the hospital and going on home, as he easily could have done, he settled down in the waiting room and kept Jim company the whole time Blair was being examined, x-rayed and treated. He then drove them to the motel, when Sandburg was finally released to Jim's care.

While waiting, Ellison had checked the time, subtracted three hours, decided Simon would still be in his office, borrowed Con's phone and made a call of his own to the captain of Major Crimes in Cascade:

" _Banks!"_

"Captain? It's Jim—"

" _ELLISON? Why haven't you answered your phone?"_ The captain's bellow was so penetrating that Jim was forced to jerk the phone away from his ear, wincing in pain. _"Why did I have to hear about this from my son, instead of my detectives?"_

"That would be because my phone is in the safe in my motel room, sir, and I haven't been back there since I left this morning. I wasn't intending to leave it there this long. Sir."

" _And what's Sandburg's excuse?"_ Banks was not about to be appeased.

"Daryl didn't tell you?" Jim blurted out in surprise.

" _Tell me what?"_ the captain snapped. _"I'd already heard about the corner of the building collapsing, but you and Sandburg weren't in there, you were at a conference!_ _Weren't_ _you?"_ he added suspiciously.

"Uh...yes, well, the seminar was over for the day," Ellison hedged. "And...uh...Sandburg was with Daryl right at that particular time..."

There was a long silence, and finally Banks said, in an entirely different – much quieter and much more worried – tone: _"Jim, what's going on? Are you okay? Is Blair all right?"_

"I'm just fine. And he'll be fine." Jim hoped frantically that he wasn't out-and-out lying to his boss.

" _He'll BE fine?"_

"Yes sir, I'm sure he will." _Crap, that didn't come out very reassuring!_

Banks sighed heavily _. "Let's have the full story, detective. Otherwise I'll spend the whole night imagining worst-case scenarios that_ _might_ _have happened!"_

Jim's sigh echoed his captain's. Then, taking his cue from both Joe Hardy and Blair 'Dazzle 'em With Fancy Footwork' Sandburg, he rattled off the basics: "Blair was with Daryl and Daryl's new friend, Frank Hardy, when the corner of the Sports Complex went down, and they were trapped in the rubble. I and Frank's brother, Joe, went in to find them...and we did so, but Blair and Frank were both injured when the ceiling caved in on them. Sandburg's being checked out at a hospital right now, and Frank's already been released."

Banks was silent for a moment, stunned by the usually reticent Ellison suddenly turning into this fount of information. Finally he spoke. _"You're expecting Sandburg to be released? How badly was he hurt? And don't tell me you don't know, because I know better!"_

"He has a knock on the head – probably a concussion – and a badly sprained ankle, and maybe bruised ribs. And yes, I am expecting him to be released." Ellison crossed his fingers – several different pairs.

" _Ellison, what aren't you telling me?"_ Banks hadn't made captain just because he could yell really loudly. He was intelligent as well.

Jim hastily reviewed – and rejected – several replies. Finally he merely said "Things you probably don't really want to know. Sir." If he had his way, Simon Banks wasn't going to know the whole story and why and where Daryl and Blair had been, and just how bad things might have turned out, until Daryl felt like telling him! And _that_ would hopefully be several years down the road.

" _Ah...The senses thing?"_ Simon asked warily, just as Ellison had known he would.

"That's right, Captain." _Among other things!_

" _Right."_ Banks cleared his throat before continuing. _"What about the rest of your police procedures seminars?"_

"As far as I know, they're still on for tomorrow." Ellison gladly accepted the change of subject. "Assuming Sandburg's feeling up to it, we'll both attend _." Like hell he'll attend, 'cause there's no way he'll feel up to it. But maybe I can drop in...just to preserve appearances!_

Another deep sigh emanated from the phone _. "All right, Jim – it sounds like you have things well in hand. I'm glad you weren't hurt. Take care of your partner."_

"I intend to, sir. And, of course, Daryl too."

" _And Daryl too, naturally. Goodnight, Jim."_ A click ended the conversation.

Ellison handed the cell phone over to Riley. "Your boss hang up on you much?"

"Occasionally," Con conceded, and pocketed the phone with a grin.

#####

"Jim, what time is it?"

"Quarter of nine."

"What? But we're supposed to be at the Conference Center by nine, aren't we? Why didn't you wake me – OUCH!"

"That's why," Ellison replied, gazing imperturbably down at his partner, who had curled back into the pillows and was clutching his ribs with a protective arm, and holding his head with his other hand. "We aren't going anyplace this morning."

"But the seminars—"

"For God's sake, Chief, you can't even sit up in bed! Please tell me how you'd manage to sit in a hard chair for three hours and take notes!" Ellison snapped in exasperation.

"Um..."

"Well?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking! All right, you're right, I probably can't go," Sandburg sighed, and allowed his protective Sentinel to adjust pillows and blankets around him to his liking. "But you could have gone, couldn't you?"

"And leave you on your own?" Jim shook his head. "I'll see about going to the afternoon session," he appeased Blair. "Besides, wasn't this morning's something dumb like 'The Fine Art of Writing Police Reports?'"

"Something like that, yeah," Blair conceded. He gingerly wriggled to a more upright position, and pushed off the covers Jim had just finished tucking about him. "Nature calls, man, could you give me a hand to the bathroom?!"

Once on his feet, and supported by his crutches, Blair insisted that he was perfectly capable of taking a shower, and used the extremely effective argument that he was still mostly covered with grit and dust and grime, his hair was filthy...in short, "I don't know how you can stand to have me in the same motel room as you, Jim! Just look at the mess I left on the bed sheets; the maid'll think...I don't know what the maid will think! But it won't be complimentary, that's for sure!"

Ellison had to concede the truth in his Guide's arguments, although leaving a still-unsteady, barely able to stand, and hurting Sandburg on his own in the bathroom _pinged_ so many Blessed Protector radars it took an act of will to make himself leave his partner alone to shower! In the main room, reluctantly acceding to Blair's request for privacy, he dialed down his hearing, and spent a few minutes brushing the worst of the dirt off Sandburg's bed sheets, then alternately pacing and staring out the window at an uninspiring view of the motel's parking lot, before he was startled by a knock on the door.

Before he reached the door, Jim had kicked up his senses a few notches, and identified the caller. "Morning, Daryl," he greeted, opening the door with a smile. "You're up earlier than I expected."

"Hi, Jim!" The teen entered the room with a bounce that nearly equaled Blair at his most exuberant. "Guess what!"

"Why don't we save time and you just tell me?" Ellison said, grinning.

"I just talked to Frank on the phone, and he says the basketball games – well, one of 'em, anyway – one's going to be played this afternoon at a college gym here in town! And they're honoring tickets, so we can go!"

"That's great!" Jim enthused.

"So Joe's gonna pick me up this morning and we're gonna hang out at their house for awhile and then go to the game—" Daryl broke off, and eyed the big detective apprehensively. "That's okay, isn't it?"

Ellison nodded judicially. "I don't see why not. You were scheduled to go to games today, after all. It's just being played in a different location, and you've got a ride there and back already arranged. I don't see any problem."

Daryl's smile was blinding. "Cool! Thanks, Jim! You're the greatest, man!"

"What time are you being picked up?" Ellison looked at his watch. "Have you already had breakfast?"

"Ten o'clock, and yeah, I went down to the coffee shop earlier." Daryl settled himself in one of the chairs by the table. "How's Blair?" he belatedly remembered to ask. "Where is he?"

"Bathroom. Moving pretty slowly, but he insisted on taking a shower."

"Man, I don't blame him! I couldn't sleep last night until I took one; I felt like a litter box!" Daryl grimaced with distaste, recalling the gritty feeling.

"He would have too, if he hadn't basically fallen asleep the minute he sat down on the bed last night." Ellison got to his feet. "Can you stay here while I run down to the coffee shop and pick up some breakfast for Sandburg and me? I don't want to leave him by himself."

"Sure!"

When Jim returned, he was carrying a couple of bags, a box, and the morning issue of the _Bayport Gazette_. He arranged the food on the table and then tapped on the bathroom door. "Sandburg? Blair? Breakfast!"

"Okay...out in a minute!" came faintly from within.

Sandburg looked highly improved when he emerged, although a multitude of bruises showed up starkly on his fair skin. He was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, covered by a robe, and his hair hung in damp ringlets about his face. His ankle was swollen to twice its normal size, and the elastic wrap trailed from a robe pocket.

"Hey, Daryl," he greeted, as he eased himself down in a chair. "You having breakfast with us?"

"Nah, already ate." However, Daryl wasn't above accepting the piece of toast Jim offered him. "Blair, guess what? There's one of the games being played today, and I'm going with the Hardys! They moved it to a college gymnasium here in Bayport!"

"Good, that's great!" Sandburg smiled at the enthusiasm. "You be sure and have a good time."

"I will – hey, I gotta go; I don't wanna make Joe wait. I'll see you when I get back, 'kay? Glad you're feeling better! Bye, Jim!" Waving his toast, Daryl was out the door.

The detective partners looked at each other and laughed. "No wonder Simon's turning gray," Jim chuckled.

"And to think I used to teach classes with 30 or 40 of 'em," Blair sighed. "How did I do it, anyway?"

"Beautifully," his Sentinel said with unexpected gravity. "Beautifully, Chief."

Blair blushed, and buried his nose in his coffee cup.

###

After breakfast, Ellison re-wrapped his partner's ankle and settled him on the less-dusty bed, with his foot elevated on two pillows and packed in towels filled with ice cubes. He also waited impassively, perched on the edge of the bed, until Blair reluctantly swallowed the painkiller the ER doctor had prescribed.

"All right, are you satisfied now?" Sandburg demanded irritably. "That pill's gonna send me off to La-La Land for the rest of the morning!"

"And you'd prefer to be awake and stuck in this motel room?" Jim countered, gesturing at their Spartan quarters.

Blair considered that a moment and shook his head. "Not really, no," he sighed. A thought occurred to him, and he brightened. "Jim – last night, you said you'd tell me what was so funny, when we were walking out. What was it?"

 _I promised, so I'd better make good on it,_ Jim thought. He explained about overhearing Frank and Joe discussing his amazing 'tracking' skills, and their speculations that he'd learned things from the Chopec. "Which I did, of course," he admitted, "but I wasn't using those, then! And then..." he grinned engagingly at his amused Guide, "Joe said he didn't care if I was from Krypton, as long as I found you three!"

Blair sputtered with laughter. "Krypton, huh? Well, he's not the first one to compare you to Superman. Sometimes I think you think you're Superman, the way you keep throwing yourself into danger, regardless of the consequences, man!" Abruptly, he yawned. "Ah, damn, those stupid pills are kicking in!"

"Good." Jim gently patted his leg and stood up. "You need to rest. We've got a plane to catch late tonight, remember?"

"Oh yeah...right. Going home..." Another yawn. "Night, Jim..."

Ellison glanced out the window at the bright spring day and smiled. "Night, Chief."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with _The Sentinel's_ characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!

Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. _Band of Brothers_ and _Welcome to Cascade_ take place before _September Song_ begins [Hardy universe] , and any time after _The Perfect Partner_ [Sentinel universe]. _Missing Persons_ happens right after _Fanfare for June_ [Hardys]; _A Matter of Public Record_ takes place any time between _Death on the Fourth of July_ and _February Flirtations_ [Hardys], and before _Remodel and Rebuild_ [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!

 **Band of Brothers**

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 8

"Tell me again why we booked this flight?" Blair Sandburg demanded as they inched their way along in the check-in line. "Why didn't we go back in the morning? And why are all these people wanting to go to Cascade, anyway?"

"They aren't all wanting to go to Cascade," Jim said reasonably. "They're going to Denver...and Seattle...and Portland...and San Francisco, as well as Cascade."

Blair eyed him malevolently. "Can the logic, Ellison," he grumbled. "I'm not in the mood to listen to it. I'm in the mood to vent all my frustrations! And I have a lot of frustrations at the moment!"

"God help us all!" his partner whispered. Aloud, he said "I wonder where Daryl is? He knows what time we needed to check in – and the Hardys said they'd get him here on time!"

Sandburg just growled, and shoved his duffle bag forward with one of his crutches.

"It was nice of Con to give us a ride to the airport." Jim made a valiant attempt to distract his grouchy Guide. "Even though he was called away on a case – see, Chief, we're not the only ones who end up working on weekends!"

Blair nodded, accepting the change of subject and trying to curb his bad temper. "You're right; we aren't, and yes, it was nice of him. He's a good guy, Jim; I liked him."

"Jim! Blair!"

The two men turned and saw Daryl Banks hurrying towards them, accompanied by Joe and Frank Hardy – Frank bringing up the rear, as he was swinging along on crutches just as Blair was.

"I see we got here in plenty of time," Joe observed, eyeing the line snaking up to the counters. "And here we thought we might be late!" They settled companionably into line with their friends from Cascade.

"Suddenly everyone wants to get out of Bayport," Blair muttered resentfully.

"Be reasonable, Chief," Ellison said. "Most of these people came in for the basketball games, just as Daryl did, or for the police conference, like we did. Now that the games are done in Bayport, and the conference is over, they're all leaving again." He rested a hand on the younger man's neck and rubbed gently.

Blair sighed. "You're being logical again," he pointed out. "I don't want reasonable explanations, I want immediate solutions!" But despite his words, he relaxed into his partner's soothing touch, and even managed a small smile. "Sorry I'm being such a grouch."

"People are lookin' at us funny," Daryl whispered, as they inched forward.

"It's the crutches," Frank said. "Nobody wants to be next to us, because they're afraid being a gimp is contagious. They're afraid they'll catch it too. And they don't want to be near Blair, especially," he teased, "since he's got that bandage on his forehead as well as all the bruises, and the crutches!"

"That is so lame—" Joe broke off his comment with a groan. "Somebody tell me I didn't just say that!"

"Sorry, bro, but that one's all yours." Frank swung forward another step. "I'm going to get a walking cast next week," he added with relief. "No more crutches!"

"Well, I'll be off crutches next week too," Blair bragged.

"Maybe," Jim put in mildly. "You've got a pretty nasty sprain, remember."

"Man, do not rain on my parade!"

###

At last it was their turn to step to the counter and check in. Jim, motioning to Blair to stay put with Frank and Joe for the moment, took his partner's ID and both their tickets, and moved up, while Daryl went to another ticket agent.

"Here's mine...and this is for my partner." He tilted his head toward Blair. "He's the one on crutches. The dark-haired one on crutches," he added, realizing that the description 'on crutches' would also fit Frank. _Ooops, that didn't help much!_ "Uh—" He tried again. "The short one with long dark hair." He also produced their permits to carry weapons aboard the plane, and showed their police-issue guns.

The agent laughed and started processing their tickets, but after a moment she looked puzzled and started tapping more computer keys. A feeling of uneasiness began to spread over the detective. "Is there something wrong?"

"Not a thing!" she said cheerfully, and went on tapping keys. "It's just that you're booked in First Class now!"

"First Class? That's not right! There must be some mistake!" Ellison nearly panicked. Their tickets were purchased by the department, and definitely were _not_ issued for First Class! He could just imagine Simon Banks' reaction to the news that his detectives had incurred that sort of expense.

"No mistake. See?" The ticket agent turned her computer screen towards him and pointed.

When Ellison returned to his companions, Joe was saying, "Blair, you'd get first boarding if you'd just let Jim or Daryl push you in a wheelchair, instead of using the crutches! And you wouldn't get so tired..."

"I'm not going to be wheeled through the airport like some invalid dowager!" Blair refused. "But maybe they'd let me board first anyway," he concluded hopefully. He looked up at Jim as he approached, and the older man could see unconcealed weariness in his partner's eyes. "Which gate do we leave from? And was there something wrong with the tickets?"

"Forty-three, Concourse B," Ellison replied, ignoring the second question. He picked up his and Blair's carryon bags and started towards the gates.

"Man, that's clear at the other end of the airport!" Joe exclaimed. "Blair, about that wheelchair..."

"But I don't want...ah, hell, whatever!" Blair sighed deeply and capitulated. "If we see one standing around empty, I'll ride in it. But I'm gonna feel like an idiot! Jim!" he called after his roommate, "what was the deal with the tickets, anyway? How come you had that long discussion with the agent?" He groaned at a sudden thought. "We didn't get bumped, did we? The flight's not delayed, or anything? Man, we've already checked outta the motel, and I do NOT want to spend the night in the airport—"

Ellison turned, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "You're going to get early boarding," he informed his fretful partner.

"Was that all? Well, that's great, but... Sheesh..."

###

Sooner than anticipated, they reached the security checkpoints, and the Hardys could go no further. They exchanged hand- and back-slaps with Daryl, and shook hands more formally with the two detectives, wishing them a good flight home.

"And you guys need to come to Cascade!" Daryl invited. "I want to show you around!"

"We've been to Seattle, but not Cascade; I'd like to come," Frank nodded. "Wouldn't you, Joe?"

"Yeah, I would! We'll call you, Daryl – or you call us. You've got our e-mails, too, right? We'll set it up, okay?"

"You got it! Bye, Joe! Bye, Frank!" Daryl put his bag on the conveyor belt and stepped through the metal detector, waving back at his new friends.

The Hardys turned to go, but Jim put out a detaining hand. "Thank your mother for us," he said with a quiet smile, and the boys both nodded.

"She said it's you who deserve the thanks," Frank told him, and extended his hand to clasp Ellison's once more. 'Both of you – thanks for everything."

"Detective Ellison – it might not have been completely fun, but it was definitely awesome!" Joe pronounced, grinning. "I'll never forget it!"

"You take it easy, Joe. We'll see you when you come to Cascade. Maybe we can get Jags tickets!"

Blair, looking a little bewildered, exchanged final goodbyes with the boys, and the two detectives moved through the security checks.

"Jim," he said when they were at last gliding along on the Slide-walk, Daryl some distance ahead, "What was that about thanking Mrs. Hardy? For what?"

Ellison smiled. "Chief, remember when I said you'd get early boarding?"

"Yeah...?"

"Well, you aren't the only one. We all are – you and me and Daryl."

"What? Why? How come?"

Jim, still smiling, took their boarding passes from his pocket and flipped one open to display it to Blair. "Because," he explained, "we're flying First Class...compliments of 'L. Hardy'!"

"Wha...but...we're...you don't mean it! First Class?" Between sputters of disbelief, Sandburg's mouth was hanging open in shock.

"Apparently she had our tickets upgraded."

Blair leaned on his crutches and held out his hand for his boarding pass. He examined it carefully before passing it back to Jim. "Well, I'll be damned!" he said at last. "That's really nice of her!"

"I agree, partner. Come on, let's get to the gate so you can sit down; you're looking about as peppy as a wet rag."

"I simply live for compliments like that," Sandburg said sarcastically, but straightened up with a little more energy, nonetheless. "Jim..." he said, after a few minutes more of Slide-walking. "You never did tell me about how things went, when you and Joe were trying to find us. Did you have any trouble with zoning, or spikes, or using your senses? How'd you manage without him getting suspicious?"

Ellison turned around and faced his Guide, grinning. "Well, you see...Joe seems to have some natural talent..."

The End


End file.
